Fevered
by writtenonwings
Summary: My first attempt at a h/c fic! Fingers crossed and please be nice! RATED T DUE TO DEAN'S MOUTH/and just the language of the show! Starring: fever!Dean angst!Sam and set mid-season 3 in their home!Impala - Let me know what you think! :) ONE-SHOT


**A/N:**

 **I'm baaackkkk! Hi again everybody! Good luck to anyone still out there in the realm of final exams, I know you'll do amazing because I believe in you! But please do study! Also, warm wishes and happy thoughts to all those who had a bad work day like mine – work – grrrr! I thought I'd start off with this and then go on into my poll requests – to the one person that voted – thank you! – and you get a three in one because I honestly had no idea planned on what I wanted to do with that when I put it in the poll. Also thank you to my one reviewer "Guest" remains anonymous but awesome! Seriously, thank you, it touched my heart; I really needed to hear that.**

 **Happy holidays to everything that you all celebrate – I'm geared up for Christmas!**

 **Anyone else ready for season 11 to come back? Do I need to add cover pics to my stories? Should I keep posting my stories? Let me know!**

 **And now I'll leave you to the story…as always, please read, rate, review, favorite, follow, and vote!** **J**

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing! – for fan purposes only

 _Fevered_

Wet coughs rocked the Impala, parked on the side of yet another highway. I wanted nothing more than to have my brother safe and sound, wrapped up in all the warmth and comforts that those shady, cheap motels offered, but the drive just didn't feel the same way. So here we were, stuck in the middle of nowhere Nebraska, in early January, at 3am. To top it all off was the fact that Dean was sick. Carefully I measured out another dose of NyQuil into the little cup from the cap of the bottle. "I'm sorry Dean." I carefully broached the subject to the lump of dejected sick human slumped over in the passenger seat.

"Watcha got to be sorry bout?" a voice grated out against the obvious congestion like nails on a chalkboard while hands gratefully took the meds only to down them like a shot of whisky.

"For all this!" I couldn't help but to throw my hands up in exasperation and then rest my head against Baby's wheel, gently, mindful of Dean's cares and ministrations to the car. _He loved that damn thing more than his own brother sometimes. Love,_ I reminded myself, _he's not gone_ _yet. I'm not gonna let him leave._

"It's not your fault Sam. How was anyone supposed to know that those little towns on the map were all closed up and gone? We've slept in Baby plenty before, frankly, I think it's kinda intimate."

"Gross," I wrinkled my brow and nose, "and you're gross too." I should've checked the map before we came out this direction, if I'd have seen the thing was from 1985 we could have saved ourselves being stuck out in the no man's land of these old ghost towns.

"It's just as cold Sam," he blew his overflowing nose into a soggy tissue; "I'll be fine."

"Yeah, but I shouldn't have found us this hunt and brought you out when you're not feeling well. We should have stayed at the last motel another day or two. Take it easy for once. You need to heal."

"It's the job Sam, hunting doesn't take a day off, and it's what I wanted to do, you wouldn't have been able to stop me once I made up my mind to come. And I'll heal just fine on the road especially with you behind the wheel, but mark my words Sammy you better take care o' my Baby." He hooked my with his most threatening look but in sickness I doubt he could even make a teddy bear tremble, it was so pathetic I could even find it in me to laugh. I gave him a break in using the nickname instead of my name only on the grounds of him being sick. One time wouldn't hurt.

"I promise we'll be back on the road by dawn, just give me two or three hours, I gotta take a break." _I was sooo tire_ d. My hands rubbed across tired eyes.

"Yeah Sammy," he gave a wheezy sigh" I know."

"You good?"

"Yeah I'm good." It came out as a grunt but I'd take it, after all, it was just a cold.

"Just get some rest."

"Stop hovering." he whined and pushed the winter beanie on my head down, covering my face, and slouched sideways against the Impala's passenger door.

"Jerk" I mumbled.

"Bitch" came the wheeze right as I drifted off…

The sandman must have blessed the Impala because I slept like a log. When I awoke it was to the break of dawn and a fever-bright eyed Dean. He was sitting erect scanning the view from the windshield in what must have been pure habit because with that glassy glazed over look on his face there was no way anything he saw was actually connecting upstairs.

"You ok Dean?" I tried, almost not wanting to hear the answer.

"Sammy!" He said with such childish delight I immediately feared for his well-being. This wasn't Dean. "You're up!" I felt his forehead and the first warning sign was the fact he leaned into the touch instead of flinching away with a comment about chick flick moments. The second warning was...

"You're burning up man." His forehead felt like a combination of the Sahara desert and the surface of the Sun. I rubbed my own forehead in dismay; great, just great, sarcasm racked my brain, a fevered Dean.

"I kept watch."

"I noticed that." I responded dryly reaching for the bottle of NyQuil. "Thanks for that."

"Gotta keep you safe Sammy." It was empty, damn.

"Hmm" I wasn't really paying attention to him at all.

"Dad said." he nodded absently to himself," gotta protect Sammy"

I couldn't do anything but stare at him now, talking about Dad, the burdens he had put on tiny shoulders years ago. His walls were broken down due to sickness and what it granted me was a true and honest look at my brother without all his macho acting exterior. He shouldn't have to worry about me all the time. It broke my heart. "Right now let's just concentrate on getting you better." I rubbed his shoulder gently.

"Yeah, okay." he sighed, breathing no easier than he had earlier, and I turned to scavenging the med kit from the backseat for anything to tide his cold over till we reached a town of any sorts. "You know Sammy…" he leaned back against the seat.

"What?"

"There's some things you gotta promise me you'll do if this," he gestures openly in the air, "if it gets me. You know end, final, the big dirt nap."

"Dean I'm pretty sure this cold's not going to kill you, you're just being dramatic."

"That's not what I meant Sammy." The look he gave me said it all and told me what puppy dog eyes truly were.

"Dean I'm not gonna let it happen, this deal, we'll find a way out."

"You don't know that."

"Neither do you."

"Touché. But there's things you still got to promise me."

"Really dean?"

"Yeah, you owe me that much at least." He looked stressed and tired curling in on his frame.

"Okay then." I decided to humor the fever addled mind of my big brother. Whatever this was leading up to had to be good, maybe check on an old girlfriend, wash the car, ..."What do you need me to promise you?" He instantly looked more comfortable, like some unbearable weight was being lifted off of his chest and I reconsidered that this was just going to be some floozy funny request of an ill mind.

"I need a hunter's funeral Sam."

"A hunters..., Dean that's not gonna..."

"Will you just let me finish?" He cut me off, agitated. I offered both hands upstretched in the air in surrender to his rant

"I need a hunter's funeral, cremation; I don't want to be any thing's meat suit. I know it's a strain for you, and you ain't done too many but Bobby will help you. I already talked to him about it. As far as the ashes go though, I got plans.

"Yeah?" My voice cracked with the emotions I was holding back _. How could I have missed that talk with Bobby?_

"Put me in a can, not one o' those pansy assed urns, leave the top off, then I want it to ride shotgun in Baby, and drive her as hard as you can with the windows down and her engine purring along to ACDC's Highway to Hell. I want my ashes to be flying free in the wind. I want 'em stuck forever in this car and to you too so that no matter how hard you scrub I'll always still be there. I don't wanna leave my car … and I don't want to leave you. … I just can't."

There was an uncomfortable pause of utter silence in the Impala. Even the winter wind stopped blowing against the car in the wake of our conversation. Both of us just sat, trying to process.

"Sam," he whispered "I'm scared."

No, this wasn't Dean, not my Dean. Dean didn't get scared, he just didn't. My eyes started overflowing and I didn't know what to do anymore. I was supposed to be the scared little kid and he was supposed to fix the problems and make all the monsters go away. Here he was finally letting me step up to take care of him and I had no idea what to do. I did the only thing I felt I could. I pulled him over across the car and into my shoulder, hiding what was now a torrent of tears down my own face. "Me too, but it's going to be okay Dean, I'm gonna make it okay.

We stayed like that for a while. Just appreciating each other's presence and our slight glimpse of peace. We needed to get back on the road I knew, to get meds for a sick brother, a new case, and solutions to our rather pesky problem, but for now we could sit and enjoy each other's company in fevered moments like this.

Until...

"Hey Sammy…" his voice was doubled muffled now from sickness and my own winter coat.

"Yeah dean?" he wriggled and squirmed, still in my embrace.

"No chick flick moments!" he whined and I laughed, needing to feel anything but the pain of the truth. I swore to myself then and there, that one way or another I would get my brother free of this deal, or so help me; there'd be hell to pay.


End file.
